The greatest joy of IT is that it's an absolute joy to watch. Stephen King screen adaptations tend to get a bad rap, by and large, because of how many there are and how bad many of them are. Poor production values and streamlined scripts have so often butchered the master of horror's work, though there are a few gems out there. I feared for this one. The sheer size and scope of the novel is daunting at best, and there has already been a fabulous adaptation in the 1990 miniseries starring Tim Curry in a now-iconic role. While that vision suffers, too, from some cheap effects and dated -isms, it has certainly stood the test of time as a classic iteration of horror-comedy. Sure, Tim Curry will freak you out a bit, but he's on screen so much and having such a blast, it's hard not to grin and bear the more horrific parts of the story -- namely, the wicked townspeople who harm and neglect their children.
Andy Muschietti's new film is everything we could have wanted and then some.
The year is 1988 (a logical update from the novel, which begins in '57; the film, catering to millennials and Gen Xers, seeks to evoke childhood nostalgia). The town is Derry, Maine, and children are going missing. The film follows a small group of concerned youngsters who call themselves the Losers Club as they unravel the mystery and confront the evil that plagues their town. We follow the seven Losers through the trials of their personal lives (abusive or absent parents, school bullies) as they come of age together. Indeed, the heart of the film lies with these breakout stars. Each kid owns the camera's attention like veteran actors, and each is so comfortable with the crude humor and abject terror that we believe each of them almost instantly. They navigate the hilarious waters of pre-adolescence with impeccable timing and laugh-out-loud delivery, which serve to make the horrors to come even more shocking. The writers and performers do some truly incredible work in those moments of friendship and camaraderie shared by the Losers. Their lighthearted banter and hypertalkative silliness are immediately endearing because it's so accurate. In fact, even without the titular villain, this movie would have been a good watch just for these kids. With such a large cast, it's hard to make the audience care for each kid equally and invest in their plights; this film perfectly highlights each one individually, and then as a group, so you never have to question, "Wait, which kid is that?" "What's his name?" "What's he going through?"
But this isn't just a sweet throwback to our youth, though the vibes of feel-good '80s dramedies are palpably present. There is true horror lurking under Derry, and Muschietti pulls no punches. In fact, apart from the excellent coming-of-age narratives, the greatest achievement of this film is in its horror. That may not mean much at first glance -- this is a horror film, of course it's good at that -- but look again. Horror is hard to film. Jump-scares are a dime a dozen, and though effective, don't usually sit with you long afterward. Movies that seek to genuinely disturb are often lost in psychosexual drama or gore-porn that confuses or irritates us. As I've said before, there are small but crucial differences between scary movies and horror films, and IT has the brilliant good sense to embody both.
Bill Skarsgard plays a damned terrifying Pennywise the Dancing Clown, to be sure. His rolling eyes, lilting inflection, and salivating lips are immediately chilling, but he has enough control to avoid any comparison to Tim Curry's aggressively psychotic iteration of the character. More importantly, the filmmakers here know that the best way to scare us is not to have Pennywise in full view or even physically present most of the time; rather, they keep him in shadows if he's present at all. Usually it's just a balloon or a subtle peek-around-the-corner that serves as knowledge of his presence, and it will drive you back in your seat. Effective, too, are his incarnations of the children's fears. Pennywise, you see, is a shapeshifter that takes on the form of children's fears to season their meat, so to speak. Gone are the embodiments of '50s pop horror, such as the Mummy, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and the Wolf-Man. (That is, they are not present explicitly, though there are more than a few nods to the fanbase; during the climactic fight, Pennywise -- thanks to some eye-popping visual effects -- transforms from monster to monster faster than a boggart, and we do in fact see the werewolf's claw enlarging momentarily, and the icky moment of a mummy's bandages binding Ben's face to Pennywise's.)
Instead the filmmakers have delved deeper into the psychological trauma of the Losers and developed what really makes them squirm. Ben, having been researching the 27-year tragedies of Derry and stumbling upon the photo of a child's head in a tree following an Easter explosion, follows smoldering eggs to the library basement and is attacked by a child's headless specter. Mike, haunted by the memory of his parents burning to death in the Black Spot, sees burning hands reaching for him from behind a locked door. On the other hand, some of the children's fears are directly transferred from the novel. Beverly's onset of puberty and the incestuous abuse of her father set the stage for her bathroom horror show, the excessiveness of which recalls Carrie and the blood rain during the climax of the Evil Dead remake.
Apart from discussion of adaptations and details, though, I want to impress that my favorite element of this film is with its spirit. This is one of those adaptations that -- though remarkably faithful to source details -- captures the essence of King's novel so absolutely I find it astonishing he wasn't a producer or co-writer. IT has the distinction of being a horror film that feels like a waking nightmare. Partly because of its familiar design, and partly due to expert delivery, it starts as a dreamlike flashback and quickly darkens (after all, what good's horror if it doesn't come out of joy?). Sweeping camera motions and unnerving angles push us to view what we don't want to see by entrancing us, much as Pennywise entrances his prey. Muschietti even takes on Pennywise's inherent theatricality, distorting images and sounds as if they were in carnival funhouses, and regurgitating them on screen with gleeful malice. Even only two-thirds of the way through the movie (for fans, the encounter in the house on Neibolt Street) feels like a climax, simply due to its in-your-face violent terror. It was in that sequence I realized what Muschietti was doing: Scaring the shit out of us kids, gathered around a lit campfire, as he tells a story with every trick he's got. Heightened volume, incoherent children's screams, whirlwind cinematography and bewildering editing, and some spectacular special effects make this film a nightmarish descent into the hell of your imagination.
Don't cover your eyes. It might be worse than what you see on screen. That's how deep IT gets under your skin.
IMDb: It
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